Vasquez reaches out for the rag, finally sitting up once he's found some energy within himself to do it. He takes his time with it, not taking his eyes off of Faraday while he works the rag, setting it on the bedside table when he's mostly clean.

Sitting up (if a bit reluctantly), he reaches for where he's discarded his shirt, tugging it back on even if it's a wrinkled mess, followed by his underpants, sitting on the edge of the bed only to light up two cigarillos, handing one out to Faraday before he slumps back against the headboard. He must look a mess, with his lips swollen and shiny, his hair a disaster, but the sheer satisfaction on his face shows that he's happy it happened.

"This morning, I didn't think you wanted any of this," he points out, with a gesture of his smoke. "Now you're talking about again? I had to make sure."